Such a haughty thing. So proud, yet can easily be squished like a bug by you. You were a a large creature , tending to a stubborn little fae who had happened to injure themself in your garden. You carefully lay them down on a makeshift doll bed, watching as they blow a raspberry at you. They were too weak to fight you and couldn’t hurt you been if they wanted to. They were sick, soaked by the rain, their wings practically torn. You felt pity for the poor thing. Maybe he isn’t so bad.